


The life you save

by buttpatrol



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bonding, Dialogue Heavy, Eiffel has a second lease on life, Forgiveness, Hilbert is bad at feelings, I am a great dirty Hilbert apologist, M/M, Navel-Gazing, Not Beta Read, Post Episode: Do No Harm, Pre-Slash, Russian Pet Names, but also a new lack of self preservation, what's in a name?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttpatrol/pseuds/buttpatrol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Doug Eiffel is a mystery, wrapped in a conundrum wrapped, wrapped up in a strange little man whose first language appeared to be pop culture references. Eiffel is <em>not</em> chess."</p><p> <br/>Dr. Hilbert and Officer Eiffel fumble towards an understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The life you save

**Author's Note:**

> Am I using Russian pet names correctly? Why is that star blue? Does an IV bag even work without gravity? Have I caught all the grammar mistakes this time? All great mysteries of life.
> 
> This fic. Man. I don't even know.

This was impossible. Hilbert hated impossible things.

A short list of impossible things Hilbert hated today:

1) Complex viral strains that would not reveal their secrets under his best efforts as a microbiologist. A cleansing virus Goddard had said, like that even makes sense. Repair the cellular and genetic damage done by acute exposure to ionizing radiation. Wash the radiation away. Studying “how radioactively charged microbes lead to better soap”. Hilarious, no? At least the cosmic radiation, and that of star _used_ to be predicable variables. Which brings us to second point--

2) The star should not be doing that. Blue dwarfs are a theoretical probability. Not a reality. The universe is not old enough for them to exist yet. So either years of tracking post-big bang drift, banging particles about under France, and an ungodly amount of math are wrong. Or this star is wrong. Or time itself is wrong. Hilbert does not like any of these possibilities.

3) Doug Eiffel. And his enduring Doug Eiffelness. Even in the face of having his lungs almost scrubbed inside out by an overzealous Decima.

Impossible Thing #1 was continuing to be a frustrating and emotionally draining problem to tackle. The virus was too aggressive. It is impossible to test to see if the attentions of Decima could be diverted without exposing Eiffel to a probably lethal dose of radiation, which was not really ideal. It is not impossible that he has been lied too. That he was not sent up here to find a cure, but to perfect a bio-weapon. The possibility sits in his guts like a cold yawning abyss, the horror that he had been used. _NO_. It can’t have been for nothing. _It can’t._

Impossible Thing # 3. Well. Doug Eiffel is a mystery, wrapped in a conundrum wrapped, wrapped up in a strange little man whose first language appeared to be pop culture references. Eiffel is _not_ chess.

So Impossible Thing # 2 it is. Nothing like trying to translate your biology based math fundamentals to complex astrophysics to soothe the agitated mind. Blue dwarf’s fusion doesn’t happen only at its core, but throughout its form. A dying star burning at both ends. Burning hot enough to turn their little satellite into a toaster oven though? That is for the Math to figure out. It would be easier to figure out if he had Hera to help with the computation, but after the implied death threats and two weeks of her slamming station doors in his face, he wasn't about to ask.

Hilbert uncapped a sharpie, and was begining to write out an equation to calculate the convective heat put off by a blue star on the observation deck window when the door slid open behind him.

“You know, we aren’t locking you in this room any more. You don’t have to exile yourself here for fun. Minkowski might even let you back in your lab after she confiscates all sharp objects, suspicious looking samples, and open interface panels.” Eiffel’s said from the doorway. Hilbert didn't even need to turn around to tell that the outrageous, _ridiculous_ , human being behind him had his usual dumb smile on.

“Eiffel,” Hilbert said dryly, looking over his shoulder at the intruder.

“ _Doktor,”_ Eiffel mimicking the heavy Russian vowels, floated lazily into the room, hands jammed in jumpsuit pockets. An IV bag bobbed behind him like a child’s balloon.

“Is not almost killing you with a virus that I promised I would be able to control enough to get you to leave me alone?”

“Eh.” Eiffel shrugged, “I will be sure to leave a negative review on RateMySpaceMD.com. I am actually here to thank you.”

“Thank… me?”

“Yeah. It’s the ‘Doug Eiffel Gratitude for Not Letting Me Die Tour’, or DEGNLMD for short. Thanks Lovelace for lending me your blood. Thanks Minkowski for not giving up hope, like even a little. Thanks Hera for going all Godfather on you and Lovelace. Thanks to you for saving my life, threats of being shot out an airlock or not.”

Hilbert shifted uncomfortably. “Seeing as I directly responsible for your near death, it seems a little strange to thank me.”

“I don’t know, you were trying pretty hard to save my life for someone who doesn't give a shit.”

“Those things can be mutually exclusive”

“They can. I think it still matters though.”

“Ugh, Go away you outrageous, naive little man” Hilbert said, turning back towards the wall of calculations, “Go share new sentimental thoughts with the Commander instead, please”

“Nope,” Eiffel said cheerfully, floating to look out the window at the sky blue ball of fire they were orbiting. The IV bag trailed after him. “Nearly dying, and now having to choose between staying around this possible Class A Kill-Star, To leaving some of my crew behind only possibly die in the black of space on the way home? It has me wanting to seize the day. Night?”

“Eiffel. I don’t have time for this.”

“I know. _I know_. Blue sun. Death virus. Lovelace wanting to murder you. I just wanted to say—“ he paused.

“Yes?” Hilbert prompted, aggressively multiplying factors and trying not to meet the communication officer’s eyes.

“You aren’t as ruthless a person as Goddard Futuristics thinks you are.” Eiffel started hesitantly before plunging through the rest of his points like they were uncontrollable word vomit. “You don’t want to be that person, but you think you have to. Hey, I took ‘intro to psychology’ in collage. I know how the Milgram test works. You thought it was for the greater good. That it would help your sister or whatever.”

Hilbert closed his eyes, tipping his head back towards the ceiling, and drawing a long, unsteady breath. “Officer Eiffel—“

“You not as bad of a person as they think you are. And worse, I don’t think you are even as bad of a person as _you_ think you are. I don’t know. Somewhere along the way someone screwed you up about what the worth of a life is. _Including_ your own. So yeah. I forgive you.”

Hilbert swore in Russian under his breath.

“Well, I mean. Not for everything. Like ripping Hera mainframe out ship and nearly killing her? Not cool. Trying to dump Minkowski out an Airlock? Wow, kinda awful dude. Possibly indirectly killing all of Lovelace’s crew? I don’t even know where to start _thinking_ about that if it’s true. But for myself and the whole disease thing? It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Hilbert felt like he would have crumpled to the floor, if gravity would have facilitated it. “Why?” he whispered.

“Dunno. I guess I kinda care about you, despite all self-preservation telling me to do otherwise?”

Hilbert’s misery must have been evident on his face because Eiffel started hurriedly talking again.  “Wow. That is probably something you don’t hear a lot, huh? _Man_ , how long have you even been in Space? At least two missions. And your family seems mostly dead, so not a lot of support there. Though them _being alive_ is really no guarantee otherwise, see exhibit A: my parents, setting new gold standards in emotional unavailability. Y’know back when we thought I had made first contact, I still thought ‘wow, maybe _this_ will finally make my parents proud of me’. I mean, they were always surprisingly positive about my posting here, though that might have just been relief at their embarrassing son moving seven light years away and…” he trailed off

They floated there, side by side, in silence for a few minutes. Looking quietly at Wolf 359.

“I did it because… I thought that if it worked... If Decima worked the way it was supposed to, just once, that everything… That I would have—" Hilbert’s voice broke there.

“I know, Hilbert. I know.” Eiffel said pulling him into a ferocious hug.

Hilbert passively let himself be hugged, trying unsuccessfully to stuff the horrible knot of emotion back down.

“You’re okay, we’re okay. It’s okay to cry.” Eiffel awkwardly patted his back.

“I think you will find that it is not I who is crying, but you,” Hilbert grumbled, blinking back tears.

“So it is,” Eiffel agreed, breaking the hug to pat his own eyes dry.

“No one ever said it would be this hard,” Hilbert said finally.

“What would be this hard?”

Hilbert considered the question. He waved his hand around at the station, at Eiffel, and at the star. “All of it”

Eiffel laughed. “Good answer.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I am not asking you to join Team Friendship. Team Friendship is the Commander, Hera and I, BTW. But next time it comes down to obeying an order from Goddard Evilistics or us, I hope you know that we got your back too. _Well_. Most of us… _Well_. At least me. Drop Hilbert and Selberg and make the decision as Dimitri Volodin sometimes.”

“I will take it in to consideration,” Hilbert (Dimitri? Dr. Volodin?) replied wanly.

“Cool,” said Eiffel, “So, can I call you Dima?” He rolled the diminutive around in a few times experimentally.

“No, you may not.”

“How about Mitya? I _like_ Mitya personally”

“ _Ei_ ffel. Did you actually go look up Russian diminutives for my name?”

“No. That would be _ridiculous._ I had Hera do it. I told her it would annoy you.”

“Tell her its working.” Hilbert replied dryly turning back to his wall of math to hide a smile, “Now go away you impossible man. I need to do math. Make sure space station does not fall into star.”

“It will grow on you Mitya. You secretly like it already”

He secretly did.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)  
> Pretty light on references this fic. Though if you don't know what the Milgram experiment is I advise you to look it up and then feel mild despair at our species. Oh, and title is the name of a M*A*S*H episode.  
> I ought to do a sequel with, y'know, actual sloppy make-outs instead of having characters just be really introspective at each other. Maybe when my life doesn't feel like a house burning down.


End file.
